You Shook Me All Night Long
by necessitas
Summary: It crashed over Arthur like a wave, the sound. The sheer weight of it pressed him so that he was barely able to breathe, to think, distancing reality until the beat was the foremost thing in his mind, bashing against his skull like some caged beast.


**This whole ordeal is et pre-Inception. I…I really don't know whether I love this or want to decimate it. But, I wanted to tackle the best and brightest of fandom bicycles: hooking up at a club and having hot, lusty sex in the bathroom.**

**Yup, I've lost it. But, whatever. I love it, too. **

Pounding. Throbbing. Pulsing. A wild beat threading through his veins like a narcotic, making him feel giddy and unable to focus. Not that he wanted to focus. All Eames wanted was his space on the dark dance floor, amid the undulating crush of bodies that were sweaty and rocked with his own. Bright colored lights, turquoise, goldenrod, jade flashed wavy impressions behind his shuttered eyelids. Heat encased him, dampened his skin, darkened the hair at the nape of his neck. An elbow would catch him every once and a while, usually accompanied by a barely audible "sorry!" or a girl's sweet smelling hair brushed over his skin.

All of it, every single touch, scent, and flashing light added to the aching, fascinating feel for the need to _move_ as it tore through his body_._

XX

Dom threw the door open.

It crashed over Arthur like a wave, the unbelievable sound. He walked inside, and it got much, much worse. The sheer weight of hit pressed in upon him so that he was barely able to breathe, to think, distancing reality until the beat was the foremost thing in his mind, bashing against the inside of his skull like some beast that had been caged. The terrible force of the volume danced along his skin, burrowing under it until he was able to close his eyes and be nothing _but_ the music. The crush of people didn't matter, the swinging, jeweled lights or that he hated crowds. That he didn't want to be here.

It was nothing to him because his body had disappeared, leaving him in thrall of the beat.

XX

Really, Eames had hated the idea of coming to a dance club. The thought of all those people crammed together in such a small space, many of them with just a little too much alcohol working through their systems, sweating and bumping into him and generally making him uncomfortable. No, the idea had been _less_ then appealing and he had tried telling his brother and his best friend exactly that when they literally dragged him from the apartment they all shared and away from the book he had been very _happily _reading_,_ chiding gently.

"You only turn nineteen once, brother. It'll be fun!" Yeah, easy for him to say as Neal actually liked people and crowds and was all for trying new things. Eames would have been much more comfortable ensconced on his couch, watching reruns of bad 90's sitcoms. But his brother and their friend, a dark haired boy with an impish grin named Ling, had dressed him up and dragged him out, ignoring his protests.

Then he had stepped foot into the club.

His birthday had been two months ago and now every Sunday, he, Neal, and Ling threw on their tighter jeans and t-shirts before heading out to dance.

And he loved it.

Every moment Eames moved and dipped and stepped in time with the steady beat as it throbbed through the floorboards, he felt like he was flying, free, with nothing more to worry about than the next song the DJ would play. It was liberating, letting him forget, not remember, to just be another teenager whose name happened to be Eames.

XX

It was actually a lost bet that had led Arthur here, standing inside the doorway of the most popular dance club in the city, _Limbo._

Dom and Yusuf had bet against him on a baseball game, of all things and unsurprisingly enough he had lost. Somehow, Arthur should have known not to bet against the Yankees, as the team had the best record in their division, but he had taken the bet anyway. Little did he know at the time what the terms of the bet would be. His co-workers Dom and Yusuf, along with his best friend (although that was a bit debatable now) Ariadne had dressed him in the tightest, most form fitting clothes he owned and practically dragged him by his hair to this club. Arthur was a point man. He didn't do form fitting or dance clubs.

The entire ride he had bitched about the tight, dark blue jeans Ariadne had dug up out of his closet that he hadn't even known he owned and the even tighter black T-shirt he _knew_ he had never seen before that day that felt like it outlined _every_thing. He felt exposed and uncomfortable and he had let them know it. They had just ignored him, and by the time they were walking to the club, he had turned sullen. Not that anyone cared. Well, fine. It was a good opportunity to get drunk, at any rate.

Only the club was not what he had been expecting.

Sure it was crowded. Sure it smelled strongly of sweat and all different perfumes and colognes mixing and blending together. But it smelt of something else too that caught him off guard and made his blood burn just a little hotter.

Then there was the music. Every thump of the bass ripped through him like some raging storm, the steady strobes rendering the churning mass of bodies grinding on the dance floor almost fey, alien. It was exciting and as he stood watching at the railing that over looked the floor, he could feel the tug of the movement, the sound, the primal need to just dance rising within him.

XX

They came to _Limbo_ because it catered to everyone; whoever you picked as your dance partner that was perfectly fine. Eames himself didn't really have a preference. He would actually rather just dance alone as he was now but because of his fascinating looks, he was never without a partner for very long. The careless ease with which he moved was his main draw, men and women alike. The thing was, he just seemed to emanate confidence and grace, and he tended to have just as many (if not more) male partners than female. Either way was fine. Just the feel of another body pressed to his, moving with him as he wove to the music, hard or softer, made the blood pound just a little harder in his veins. There was one boy, who looked to be about his own age that came to dance with him every time, usually for a good three or four dances, until someone else cut in. Every time this boy, with his expensive clothes that reeked of wealth and power and those piercing blue eyes would ask for his name and number. At first Eames had been flattered, as he was really an extremely good looking guy but he had caught a glint of maliciousness in the unusual gaze and every time he declined. He wasn't looking for anyone beyond a good dance partner anyway.

Speaking of dance partners, he had come that night with his brother and his friend but he hadn't seen them since they got there. Warm eyes caught the rapidly shifting lights as he hunted for a tall, dark haired boy who was never really hard to find. Ah, right there, past the girl whose hair looked bright red when the lights touched upon it, tangled with…Oh, was that Ling? Ed blinked in surprise as he watched his younger brother and best friend grind so close to one another, it was a little hard to tell where one ended and the other began. What was even more surprising was, from what he could tell in the uneven darkness, both Neal and Ling looked perfectly happy to stay like that all night.

Well, that was a bit of a shock. He turned his eyes away, feeling like he was intruding so he could digest what he'd seen but was interrupted when a hand snaked around his waist and he was being drawn against a hard, familiar body.

"You look lonely tonight," the raven haired boy shouted into his ear, hips pressed against Eames back; Eames, who just smiled and let himself fall back into the song, letting nothing interfere because this was one night a week he could unravel and just be Eames. It didn't matter whose hand gripped his waist or whose breath heated the back of his neck. He didn't come here for anyone else. He came here for himself.

XX

Arthur had sat at the bar for a while, nursing a glass of whisky and just contenting himself to watching. Dom and Yusuf were already out dancing; he could see them, the tall blond man with this little petite thing with long, long curly black hair, and Yusuf was plastered up against another woman he couldn't see very well from his place at the bar. Seeing that had his already ridiculously tight pants constrict even more and he had to whip his eyes back to his drink as he knew thinking of his co-worker _that_ way would be inappropriate. He was taking a small sip of the amber liquid in his glass when his dark haired friend nudged him with an elbow.

"This isn't so bad, right?" Ariadne had to shout over the blaring music to be heard and Arthur just shrugged, unwilling to admit how much he wanted to be one of those people out there, losing himself in the thick thumping bass. Another swig of his drink that burned a comfortable trail down his throat and into his stomach as his eyes once again got lost in the maddening chaos of the floor. Ariadne was nudging him again.

"You see anyone you want to dance with?" and Arthur just glowered at her. His friend knew very well he didn't like to dance. It wasn't that he couldn't dance; the man was actually a very good dancer. He was just uncomfortable doing it in front of so many people. Actually, since coming here, he had already turned down nearly ten women and even a couple guys, all who had eyed him appreciatively, hoping they would be the one he picked. None of them were. Arthur was just about to yell at Ariadne for being an idiot when he saw _him._

All of the air _whooshed_ right out of his lungs upon seeing this…god.

The man, for that was what he looked like to Arthur, but he couldn't have been older than twenty seven, looked as if he had been spun out of the finest, richest colors. A lithe man slid behind him as he moved, long and sinuous and every time one of the brighter lights hit his skin, he glowed. Even the colored lamps couldn't take away that dusky quality to the tan skin. And, oh, how he moved. Every shift, dip, flexing step the man took was breathtaking, his lithe body clad in dark leather pants and a black tank looking both powerful and sleek.

He was gorgeous, beautiful and Arthur would do anything just to have one dance with him. Then the man lifted his head from the embrace of his dance partner, whose movements were broader, trying to over power, contain the slender beauty he was dancing with and Arthur was caught.

The brunette's eyes, even half-way across the ill-lit, room blazed.

XX

The feeling of being watched plucked him out of the choppy seas of the dance and he found himself glancing around the hall, looking for such an intense gaze. Eames was used to the feeling of people watching him. He got that wherever he went. Yet there was something different that night, something sharper about this gaze that made him do something he didn't normally do. It was rude to look for someone else when you were dancing with a person already. At least, Eames thought it was rude. Not only that but the boy he was grinding with now was the best dancer he'd come across in a while and was his partner on a regular basis.

And yet, there was just something about this gaze.

The forger was just about to give up as it really was impossible to see anything in the crush of people and the dark haired boy had changed their positions so that Eames was straddling his leg, hips held in place by an arm made of iron. Then a bright yellow light had fallen upon the bar just right and he found the owner of the gaze.

For a second, he almost stopped dancing.

Dark, liquid eyes stared at him from a strong face that was devastating enough to give him weak knees, though he had never really been partial to men before. His clothes immaculate, his jaw shaven so smoothly he couldn't have done it more than an hour ago, his face searching. Their gazes couldn't have held for more than a few seconds before his chin was being caught and turned so Eames was forced to look into those icy blue eyes. He swallowed thickly, feeling as if he had just stuck his hand into an electrical socket and dropped his eyes, trying to get back into the dance.

It wasn't two minutes before his eyes were hunting for a pair of dark, smouldering ones, mouth dry and the music suddenly not important anymore. Lights flickered and everyone danced on, oblivious to his turmoil. Nothing had ever been more important than the music and the dancing before. But now…

There!

Eames did pause this time, much to his partner's annoyance, but he didn't even hear what the boy flung at him, lip curling angrily before he stalked off. The man with the dark hair and even darker eyes was pushing his way through the crowd towards the blond. He noticed the way the people looked at the man as he passed but he noticed even more how this beautiful, no _stunning_, stranger had not once taken his eyes off Eames, who now stood out like a rock amid a swirling current. His heart was trying to climb out of his throat as he drew closer and closer and…fuck, this guy was gorgeous. The shirt he wore showed off every dip of every muscle and the pants were tight enough he could see the definition in the thighs of the long legs.

Then the man was standing in front of him and he had forgotten how his lungs were supposed to work. There just wasn't enough air. They stared at each other for a long moment, feeling like eternity as Eames felt that he could just stare at this man and never get tired of it. Finally, this gorgeous, gorgeous man held out his hand, a clear invitation.

"Do you want to dance?" he didn't even need to yell; his smooth deep voice cut through the heavy beat neatly, leaving Eames weak-kneed. With a shy nod and a half of a smile as he couldn't seem to remember what he did with his box of expressions, he accepted, taking the man's hand.

XX

As soon as his hand met the brunette's Arthur knew he was lost. The touch just about knocked him flat as it fizzed through his system like some firefly on a caffeine high and the man had _smirked_ at him, eyes blazing through the dark haze of the club air like two miniature suns. All of that snark, and on top of it, this guy was extremely good looking, with strong features and eyes so wide, Arthur was in danger of falling into them and drowning in unsaturated color. Shakily, as if afraid that if he made sudden movements, the man would shy away like some exotic horse, he pulled the brunette in.

Arthur felt like a veil had dropped over everything else because the only thing he could clearly focus on was those eyes that hadn't once left his face. That gaze had him caught, snared, unable to look away until he was sure his very blood was beginning to run a buttery yellow rather than a deep crimson. So enthralled was he that he didn't even realize the young man was smiling again until he was stepping closer, into Arthur's space but being careful to not actually touch the point man.

"I thought you wanted to dance!" the man yelled, full lips quirking in amusement and Arthur started then flushed. To hide it, he gave a smile of his own. The eyes followed it, became shadowed before they came back to his own gaze, burning hotter than before.

"I did!" They didn't touch at first. It was enough that the man kept those miraculous eyes locked on him as the music once again took hold, seeping through him, into him, joining the burning color of sunshine as it flowed through his veins. It was the music and the man that made him forget he didn't like dancing in front of other people. For some reason, it didn't feel as if he was. Instead he was being set free, the throbbing beat his key.

XX

Eames had never known the color black to be so enchanting but every time the colored strobes flickered over them and lit up the dark haired stranger's handsome face, they were like two gems that were a color so deep they could have been made of chips from the night sky. He tried to concentrate on just the music but that commanding gaze held his own and his body took over, commanding him to move as he didn't seem to have the cognitive facilities to do so voluntarily.

Oh, and the man could fucking _dance._

As soon at the stranger began to move, rocking his hips expertly, Eames' mouth had gone dry. Never had he ever seen anyone dance quite like this man. Every movement was used, nothing wasted, every dip of his trim hips powerful, graceful until Eames felt clumsy next to him. The dark haired man didn't seem to notice, though. Those eyes remained on Eames, drinking in every single movement he made and it was igniting a flood of heat that was surging through him, making it hard to breathe. It felt as though he was trying to breathe in black fire, the source smoldering quietly in the pit of his stomach.

The pair danced in their own little space, ignored by everyone else, ignoring them. They started facing one another, watching, circling, dipping and flowing with every new surge of the speakers. The dark haired man liked to keep to his own space, not encroaching in on Eames'. It wasn't unheard of for people to dance together without really touching. Every once and a while someone would jostle Eames and he'd be forced to step forward or to the side, leather pant leg brushing against the man's jeans or a pale arm rubbing against his shoulder. Each touch sizzled through him, becoming more fuel to that fire made of ebony flames until he grabbed the man's hand and spun them around so Eames had his back to the man's front.

Then they touched.

One hand fell to his waist and at first it stayed like that, innocent, just dancing. But he knew better. He knew they both wanted more; they both wanted to be grinding so close to one another, every time he breathed he could taste the other man's sweat and feel that fire consume him. It was the hand that begun it. It was like being given a tiny sip of the coolest, most refreshing water when you hadn't drunk anything in your entire life.

Eames backed up, heat and desire flaring. His thighs were now rubbing the other man's and he could feel the lean, corded muscles flexing every time they took the brunt of his weight. A toned chest brushed against his back every time he leaned into the warmth behind him so he reached up both hands over his head and sunk his fingers into thick hair the color of shadows, dragging the man even closer.

And, yes…this was more like it. Now the warmth had become solid, flexing with him as he moved, rolled his hips, dropped slightly and those hands…Eames had to close his eyes against the flood of heat welling up inside of him because now both of the stranger's hands were holding him tightly, an anchor on the tossing seas that consisted of wild, consuming music and a heady crush of human bodies, every one moving to the same uncontrollable beat. And all he could feel was this man who was the only reality he needed to know pressing along his back, holding Eames close like he was the most important thing in the entire world. Like he was the only person in the entire world.

Now the forger knew, this dark haired man whose name he didn't even know and had just met a few minutes ago was going to become more than just another dance partner.

XX

When the man backed up into him, Arthur realized the feeling of someone dancing while pressed against him was the most erotic feeling he'd ever experienced and had clutched the hips to his own, staring at the top of the golden head as if to make sure this was real. He hadn't even needed to adjust the sway of his hips. They just fit together, the brunette head a scant inch lower then his and the slim hips pressing back into his upper thighs. The curve of the guy's leather clad ass ground back into him every single time the man dipped his hips, making the glaring flames roaring in his ears burn that much brighter, until he was sure nothing else existed.

A pair of wide hands worked their way into his hair that was already beginning to dampen, forcing him closer, oh so close so that he had to bow his head over the guy's shoulder, breathing in a patch of skin that smelled salty and bright. Then he had no control over his own hands as they began to stray from the smooth black material clothing the working waist up over the flat abdomen where he could feel the muscles there sliding under the tawny skin. Over the stomach, his chest then he dropped one hand down so thick leather pressed smoothly against his palm, skimming around a strong thigh, over the jutting bone of one hip. The feel of this beautiful creature pressing into him and he was drowning in a sea of heat that was stripping him of everything that he was, melting his bones, his muscles, his skin. Arthur was nothing without that heat dripping into him as if it had become his life support.

The head dropped back against his shoulder as they fell into a shallow drop then again and he could see in the erratic lighting the thick eyelashes had swept down to veil the astonishingly communicative gaze, full lips parted as the man (who Arthur suspected was older than him by two, three years at the most) breathed a little hard. The hands gripping his hair were tight and his pants were beginning to mirror them, every grind of his hips making him harder and harder.

Then his fingers brushed along the man's chest and he must have unintentionally touched a spot that had the guy arching into his touch then spinning around, thumping Arthur lightly in the chest as he did to crush himself up against the point man. The bright eyes were half-lidded and shadowed, the full mouth open as he straddled one of Arthur's thighs. Blond bangs stuck to the damp forehead and they tickled Eames's face as the boy pulled himself up using both the older man's hair and shoulder so he could press their foreheads together.

By now Arthur was so hard it was suffocating.

He was so aware of the man it was a wonder he didn't just _sink_ into all that bright color. Hands were running over his back, sides, fingers sliding over the fabric of his shirt before they circled around, lower, lower. Arthur clenched his teeth against the raging desire coursing through him, its path shooting straight down. The man then dragged him even closer, both hands on Arthur's ass and, oh, he was hard too.

Now the heat had turned into pleasure, curling in slow loops in his belly, like tiny, fiery dragons. Every time they dropped to the music, obeying the beat their erections lined up and pressed together, making him want in ways he hadn't even known were possible. They breathed each other's air, hot, scorching, the brunettes's breath smelling of alcohol and something salty.

One particular roll of their hips, followed with a sharp dip resulted in a rather intense grind and now he couldn't breathe as he watched those eyes shut, white teeth snagging a full bottom lip, eyebrows drawing down. Under the skin of the man's neck, the bump of his Adam's apple tightened, caught as if the man was trying to bite back some kind of sound. The ache constrained by unforgiving denim became painful.

He was beautiful, everything, down to the shimmer of sweat over the tan skin and the way one piece of hair seemed to stick straight up into the air. Beautiful in a way that stopped his heart and seared him right down to his soul. Beautiful and he was in Arthur's arms, dancing with his whole heart for Arthur and the dark haired man wasn't sure now that he had caught this vision if he could ever let him go.

XX

Eames, being already hard by the time he turned around in the other man's arms, nearly gave into the unbearably bright coil at the pit of his stomach when his erection crashed against the other man's. It was all he could do not to cry out. The dancing between them had become something more, so hot his very bones were made of the black fire trying to separate his skin from the rest of him.

So much for wanting nothing more than just someone to dance with.

It had become so much more that he barely heard the music. He was just conscious of the beat enough that he was able to keep up the flexing of his legs and rolling of his hips, though as tangled as he was with the taller man, that wouldn't have been much of an issue. The strobes flickered mindlessly around them, their pattern changing as the song did and this one was a little faster, a bit wilder, forcing him to ride the thigh between his legs that much more. And he couldn't drag the air into his lungs fast enough or cling to the strong shoulders hard enough. All the while he was falling into a pool of heat that threatened to swallow him whole.

Until he just couldn't take it anymore.

He stopped dancing abruptly, grabbed the wiry man's hand and started hauling him towards the back of the club. Anticipation fluttered through him, making the tips of his fingers tingle. When the stranger asked with confusion in his dark eyes where they were going, Eames just shouted over the sheer mass of sound,

"The bathroom!" He had no idea what made him think this gorgeous stranger whose name he didn't even know would go along with it but he shoved his way through the crush of people anyway, oblivious in their own need to fall into the music. Yet he had seen something, deep in the eyes made from twin chips of night sky, something that told him the man would not reject him.

Need crashed through him so violently, he was barely even aware of the music everyone was so enthralled with. The beat had become the nervous pulse of his pounding heart beat, loud in his own ears so that he was unaware of anything but the wrist his was anchored to and the black fire crawling, licking slowly up his spine, leaving him with no doubts. It edged the back of his vision, the engraved plastic of the men's sign glaring at him. He had come here that night expecting no more than he had all the other times he'd come but now…now he couldn't get the feeling of how it felt to have those dark eyes follow his every movement, burn into his skin until he was about to become the flames, rather than be swallowed by them.

This he needed. This man, for this moment in time, belonged to him. So he swallowed his nerves and kept his grip on the pale wrist hoping that the man would not pull away.

XX

Arthur had nearly had heart failure when man stopped dancing, the suddenly lack of movement nearly throwing the point man off balance. For a moment he had had the shattering impression he had done something wrong. Yet when the slender hand had closed about his wrist, yanking him across the dark dance floor, he was just confused. When he voiced it, a blazing glance caught in a roving light scathed through him as the man answered. The bathroom. Realization crashed down on him like a thousand very large cinderblocks raining from the sky, leaving him reeling.

There was only one reason the man would be towing him to the bathroom.

Just like that the fire was back, burning twice as brightly as before and his vision narrowed so that the only thing he could see was that muscled back that swayed as the guy walked.

The sudden light of the men's room was stark and too-bright after the gloom of the club as the blond shoved the door open and tossed the older man in. Even here the thumping, over powering beat that had saturated the dance floor rattled through the walls and tiled floors until Arthur could feel it through the soles of his shoes.

Arthur blinked, trying to gather his thoughts that seemed to have turned tail and scattered to the farthest sands, inaccessible and beyond his reach. The guy flicked the lock on the bathroom door before Arthur was caught up in those eyes unlike any he had ever seen before. The man watched him curiously, eyes smoldering, "The door's locked so if we're fast, no one should bother us," and Arthur just stared, taking in the leather loop circling a wrist. Then the words sunk through Arthur's cranium and he swallowed hard.

Never before had he ever had sex with someone on the first date, let alone with a complete stranger whose name he didn't even know in a public bathroom. He wondered if it made it worse that he wasn't even thinking of hesitating. Then those long fingers were reaching down, touching upon the first button shining against the dark leather, a question and a fear of denial in the bright eyes.

Arthur snapped.

He strode forward, slamming the man into the wall and ignored the man's huge smirk at his hurry as he crushed the muscular body against the grimy tiles, towering over him. The guy stared up at him, the laughing look changing quickly to a familiar, seething desire. Then Arthur had to taste, to see what flavor the tan skin had. He wouldn't kiss the boy, not yet, but he needed something so he dipped his head and pressed his lips to the tawny neck, grinding the boy into the wall as he did.

It was like salty beaches under an unforgiving sun as he moved his lips over the dips and groves of the wide neck, gathering the taste on his tongue. The man could only hold onto his shoulder and pant in his ear, head tipped back to the ceiling. When his teeth grazed over the sharp clavicle bone, a thread of a moan fell against his ear and their hips rocked together, beginning the spiraling fall that had an eventual, devastating end.

All Arthur could think was, this is happening, right here and he had never wanted something so bad before in his entire life.

XX

When lips found his skin, tasting the column of his neck, Eames had been completely powerless to do very much but cling and moan. He tipped his head back, giving the man as much room as possible and tried not to think that this was the first time he had ever done something like this, let someone hold him down and touch him. Never relinquished control. Fuck, Eames didn't even know this guy's name! Even so, when their hips rocked together once again, bringing him back to the brink of the dark cliffs over the thundering ocean of black fire, he wanted so much more.

The dark fires were spreading, spurred on by the thick pulse that moved even the walls around them with its deep voice. It was those fires that stole his breath, leaving him stranded, without enough air so he was sure he'd pass out with the darkness that was pressing all around him. Warm lips caressed his skin, adding fuel to the encroaching flames, finding spots that sent the heat down, ever downwards. If he had thought his pants had been tight before, that was nothing to what they were now, like a vise, suffocating him. The friction of their hips grinding together, his trapped length brutally assaulted by the other man's erection, knocked each precarious breath from his lungs before he could even drag it in. Lips found his ear, stirring the hair there and he was nearly dragged under by the need in the man's voice.

"God. Oh, God," he breathed against the shell of Eames' ear and it was the sexiest sound he'd ever heard, making him twitch and start to leak against the unforgiving confines of his pants, "I can't hold back anymore." The words themselves only begged for the obvious end, the reason why they had come in here and locked the door. But the tone in the rich voice had him pulling back and glancing up, desire thick in the back of his throat until he was sure he'd choke.

What he found smoldering in the dark eyes nearly swept him away, rip tide clawing at his ankles, begging for him to give in, to follow. Somehow, he found his own voice amid the overwhelming wave towering over him.

"Then don't."

XX

Arthur had only been able to stare at the man, whose wide eyes were half lidded and cloudy but no less bright for it as he was given permission in that husky voice to continue this thing, to see it through to the very end. Then he was stumbling back due to a shove on his shoulders as it seemed the guy wasn't very patient. Fingers reached down once again to free the sliver button from the leather, dragging the tab of the zipper over the obvious need straining against the unforgiving material of the leather pants. The dark boxers underneath, peeking through the open gap of the zipper were a deep red and as the hands worked the pants down the slender hips, he could see the wet spot where the man had already begun to leak, the stain spreading over the dark material. The sight of it spurred him into action once more.

The damn jeans that had already been too tight to begin with were excruciating now and as he fought with his belt, his own hands shook. Somehow he managed to undo the zipper and push the denim aside so he could finally pull himself free of the suffocating confines of the pants. When he finally looked back up, the shorter man had just kicked one of his boots off, the clunky shoe sliding halfway across the bathroom floor before it came to a halt and he was jerking his left leg from the leather pants.

The man straightened when his leg was free, long and surprisingly well muscled, bright eyes darkening as he took Arthur in. One stride and Arthur had the body pressed back up against the wall, their erections sliding together in a way that had him breathless. He reached around and hitched the bare leg up around his waist, forcing the man to use his shoulders for support as he slid up the wall. Dark eyes watched the man's features, looking for any kind of hesitation. There was none, thank god, just naked longing as he lifted his other leg and locked his ankles at Arthur's back so he was now the taller, leaning over the other man as he lined the man up carefully. He was throbbing, his legs from the strain of the man's solid weight, his cock aching to be buried inside of this man's burning, golden heat but he had enough sense to hold back. His self control, however, wasn't going to last very long. He had to grit his teeth as he slicked himself, with lube he'd snagged from the dispenser as they'd walked into the bathroom.

"Are you ready?" Arthur asked and received a nod in reply, wide eyes shuttered behind thick rows of eyelashes. A second of hesitation shuttered across the man's face. And Arthur paused, watching how the man's Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly, "You haven't done this before," Arthur postulated, own voice thick as he kicked himself for forgetting about preparing the man. Yet that gaze was back, searing through him as the eyebrows tightened in annoyance.

"If you stop now, I'll kill you," snarled the man and Arthur bit back a smile at the display of temper. Instead he used one hand to line himself up with the puckered entrance and pushed his way into the tight waiting heat.

XX

Eames was sure he was going to fly right out of his skin when he saw the older man standing just a few steps away, thick erection freed from the dark pants, already flushed a deep red and he wanted it so bad, he was nearly faint with it.

Except he didn't expect it to hurt so bad.

It didn't help the man was fucking huge. Eames' eyes watered as the blunt head pushed through the first tight ring of muscles, closing his eyes so hard he saw large, wandering blotches and clawing at the dark shirt. Deeper and deeper as he sank down until he was filled to the brim, sure that if the man was any bigger, he wouldn't have fit. "Oh fuck," was breathed into his ear and the only reason he didn't stop was the expression on the other man's face, dark eyebrows drawn back, bliss written in the tight line of his mouth and the faint lines at the corners of his eyes. The raging pleasure had receded a little, the dark flames backing off and he must have made some kind of sound because the man bit back whatever noise he was going to make in response and waited.

"Are you alright?" the dark eyes were watching him now and the hands holding his legs up vibrated with the effort of holding back, "I told you it would hurt," even with the strain in the velvety voice, Eames could hear the slight arrogance and his anger flared.

"I'm fucking _amazing, _jackass! You try having a dick shoved you your ass and then tell me how you feel," he snarled and had to wrap his arms around the man's back when concern flared through the burning lust so he couldn't back away. The man closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose, "No, just…just give me a minute," he groaned, hiding his eyes from the stark florescent lights.

One breath then another and the pain began to recede so that he was able to concentrate on the overwhelming feeling of being filled. Eames clung with his knees, pressing his forehead against the man's, dark hair tickling his skin. The dark haired man was shaking, breath hitching every time he breathed in and Eames shifted, black fire beginning to return. Sinking his hands into the dark hair, he met the smoldering gaze, the way the man was clenching his teeth making him painfully hard all over again. So he let go.

"Go ahead."

XX

Two little words breathed into Arthur's ear was all it took. As soon as he had been submerged in all that tight heat, he was sure it would be all over as soon as it began. Heat surged through his veins, swallowing him whole, redefining him until he was sure he couldn't live without having it blasting through his veins. Slowly, carefully, as if the man was made of glass, Arthur rocked back and sank forward again, sliding deep into the hot passageway. So good, so tight it was blinding, so that he couldn't see, couldn't hear. He needed the friction so bad, to feel the man clenching down on him, drawing him deeper, ever deeper. One thrust and another. Each time he snapped his hips, he did so with a little more strength, reveling in the feel of the yellow fire wrapping around him, incinerating him. On the third thrust, the man jerked, shuddered and threw his head back to slam against the wall.

"Holy SHIT!" Tiles rattled with the force of his exclamation and for a second Arthur thought he had hurt the guy. When Arthur voiced his concern, eyes found his own, full lips twisting as the man panted.

"You're on my god-damn prostate!" the man gasped, squirming slightly before his eyes rolled back into his skull, "MOVE!" surprised, Arthur did as he was told and slammed his hips up, nearly pushed over by the strangled groans and screams falling past the plump lips. Then he was lost to the pit of white, fiery pleasure hovering at the back of his vision, waiting to break.

XX

It was bright, burning, agonizing, every strike, every plunge and Eames sunk down to meet each one, fire racing up his spine as the blunt tip crashed into that spot deep within him. Black flames licked at the edges of his consciousness, dragged closer and closer to that beautiful brink. Sounds he didn't know he could even make were being torn from his throat, dripping to the floor as he slid up the wall with every snap of the other man's hips.

Now everything was tightening, the fire flaring brighter, littering with glittering stars, the coiling heat becoming unbearable. Eames hunched over the taller, thinner man. Then he couldn't hold back anymore, the raging beast within him threatening to burst free and he could only cling to the broader shoulders, aware of nothing but the agony of black fire pulsing through him.

He stood at the edge of the dark shore and watched the wave rush towards him, the roar deafening, ready to sweep him away in his final release.

XX

Somehow, the rhythm of their hips had sped up just enough to match the pulse still beating through the walls, beating against the grungy tiles so that it had become another sort of dance, darker, more primal. Arthur was deaf to anything but the roaring in his ears and the cries of the man pressed against him. They were both close, the other man clamping down on him harder with every movement, leaking between them. It was euphoria he found in the features; in the eyebrows drawn back tightly, the way the full mouth had fallen open, baring white teeth and he drank in every breath, every sound, the searing color of gold bright at the sides of his vision. The man tossed his head then, golden waves like spun metal against the dirty walls as he arched into the Arthur.

"Fucking Christ! Shit! I—I can't…oh, fuck…I'm-oh… GOD!" viciously biting back his own release, Arthur watched the narrow nose scrunch as the man tried to hold back, wide hands tight in his dark hair.

"Come for me," Arthur grated, wondering if he could even hold on long enough. He caught a sliver of heat before the head was thrown back again as the body was pushed up the wall again.

"Your shirt!" the man gasped, letting out a loud cry when Arthur dug his fingers into the taught muscles of the golden thighs and snapped his hips as hard as he could. He was reaching the end and he wouldn't be going alone.

"Fuck that! Come ON!" and he did.

XX

It was like nothing Eames had ever felt before, the furious explosion until he was sure his skin wouldn't even be able to contain him. The dark flames had been tame up until now, as they squeezed out everything except the sharp, hot pulses infusing his veins with bright light. He was becoming the light, seeping into it, being remade into a vessel that could accommodate this black fire, this bright sliver light so that he could be worthy of this man who looked as if he had stepped from the dark ocean made from the night sky and silver moonlight.

Just like that, he had changed. It wasn't the dancing that had set him free like he had thought. No, this, right here was true freedom as he was flooded with the surging fire that belonged to this stranger whose name he didn't even know.

XX

The man's release was breathtaking, made of all the fire he was spun from and Arthur buried his face in a tan shoulder, unable to look because he would have been charred. Then all the fire that had been stoked blazingly hot within him broke free, rampaging through him, surging in bright waves that blinded him, rendered him senseless, voice breaking free until it became a roar but he couldn't even hear it past the dying throes of the great golden creature finally, finally sated as he flooded the man, burying himself so deep, he was sure he would never find himself again.

It was then Arthur knew that the word forever meant blazing eyes and snarky looks and a blazing soul whose name he wished he knew.

XX

Expansive black seas littered with tiny, glittering stars crashed into Eames, burning through him, so hot, so bright until he couldn't even scream as he had run out of air.

XX

Eames was floating, passing in and out of consciousness, trying to figure out in which direction the ceiling was pointing. Air seemed to be difficult for his lungs to find and it took a long moment for him to convince them that yes, air was a _good _thing. As awareness filtered back, his eyes still attempting to focus around the stray golden specks that still danced behind his retinas, he felt warm breath puffing erratically against his shoulder as the taller man pressed him into the wall. They were both trembling with the force of the fire that had raged through them and then left them nothing but blackened, empty husks.

He dropped his eyes to contemplate the dark head his fingers were still clutching, hanging against the wall as he waited for the man to catch his breath and coherency. A warm buzz had settled into his blood stream, different from the black fire that had been trying to consume him and yet, a part of it, like it had left something behind that was quietly smoldering in a spot behind his breast bone.

Finally the dark haired man lifted his head, onyx eyes now cool, sated and Eames gently carded his fingers through the black hair. The dark gaze ignited, gentled, then settled on an expression he couldn't read. And suddenly he wanted to taste him, to see if he really tasted like a warm summer night. It seemed the man had the same idea because as soon as Eames thought it, his lips were being caught up, captured and he found the breath that slid into his mouth was actually flavored of whisky, salt and fire. The contact wasn't gentle by any means, a tongue sweeping into his mouth and turning him into a useless puddle of goo, demanding and unforgiving. It was a good thing he was using the man as support for he was sure to have fallen. Yet it was strange too, because all along he had assumed this kiss would come before the sex and now that it had been completely turned around, he realized he liked it better this way.

The dark haired man pulled back after long, sweeping strokes of that tongue against his own rendered him nearly incoherent and Eames forced his own eyes open to look into the deep gaze which still had that calm, unreadable look in the man's bottomless eyes. There was a quirk of the neat, curved lips and a hand left his leg to brush damp hair from his forehead, leaving him feeling insecure against the wall, the gesture unbearably sweet.

"Can you stand?" the man's deep voice was so silky, smooth and Eames could have just sunk into the sound as it reminded him of stars flooding a dark sky. Eames nodded, mouth pinched at the corners and unhooked the leg not being supported by a strong leg to drop to the floor, clunk of the thick boot nearly drowned out by the beat still pounding away, oblivious, through the walls. He winced as the softening cock pulled out of him and warmth dripped down the insides of his legs, making him shudder in disgust.

"Here," Eames glanced up to find the dark haired man holding out a roll of toilet paper which he accepted with a smile. As he cleaned himself up, he watched the stranger tuck himself into his pants that still looked like sin on him and took note of the stain spreading over the dark shirt. The grin on his face widened.

"I told you I'd ruin your shirt," he muttered as he jammed his foot into his pants and dragged them up, his lower back giving a twinge as he straightened. Dark eyes glanced down and then a smile of amusement flickered over the pale, handsome features.

"No, you didn't, its fine," but it wasn't fine because Eames was terrified that once they left this bathroom and went their separate ways, he would never see this man again. Reality was starting to seep into the cracks, forcing its way through as he watched the back as the stranger turned to a sink and twisted the water on. The sound of running water trickling into the porcelain bowl with its faint rust stains filled the small bathroom and he couldn't take his eyes from the composed face as the taller man scrubbed at the front of his shirt with a wet paper towel in the reflection of the grungy mirror. He fetched his boot, jerking it onto his foot and when he turned around, the stranger was finishing at the sink, eyes unreadable. Eames swallowed thickly.

"Are you leaving after this?" he finally asked, his husky tenor too bright in the stark bathroom. The dark gaze caught his own and he could see the swirling depths were clouded over with something unnamable.

"Yeah, probably. I have a lecture tomorrow," Eames' eyebrows shot up, impressed despite himself. This man had a real life, another reality to go to once he stepped away from this dance club. He could feel the distance growing between them, the fact that they were indeed complete strangers grating on him.

"You go to school?" he asked stupidly, even though this man was clearly older than a college student. The small, unbearably sexy smile returned, gaze dropping as the dark eyes watched pale fingers shut the tap off.

"I…teach. Graduate school," Eames 'oh'-ed and then fell back to watching as the man took a few more swipes at the front of his shirt before turning to Eames and grinning in a way that left Eames breathless, "See? Good as new. You can't even see it," and he blushed again, this time accompanying it with a small smile of his own. The dark eyes studied his face, bright smile flattening slightly and he bit his lip, trying his best not to look desperate. Then the smile changed and the man broke the gaze, dropping his eyes to the cracked and dirty tile floors. "Can I at least ask your name?" his velvety voice was soft, like he too wished he had had something real to cry to the ceiling just five minutes ago. Eames just smiled and lifted one shoulder, eyes shuttered.

"I never got yours, either," he answered just as quietly and he saw the dark eyes light up slightly, something burning within them that was alarmingly like hope.

"I'm Arthur," and that little missing piece fell into place. Eames tugged at the hem of his shirt, meeting the expectant gaze.

"Eames," he said and the man – no, Arthur, nodded. Eames jerked his head towards the door.

"We should unlock that before someone calls management," Eames grinned a little lopsidedly which faded when Arthur walked over to the door and flicked the little silver knob. The sharp metallic sound that cut through even the thudding bass from the club outside sounded like an ending, like a warning that if he didn't do something, quickly, this man in all of his stunning glory was going to step out the door and disappear like a puff of smoke.

"Do you come here often?" Eames blurted out and was nearly choking on disappointment when the dark head shook a negative.

"No, never. Do you?" Arthur asked and Eames shrugged, trying not to show how let down he was, the black well within him beginning to shudder, threatening to go out.

"Yeah, every Sunday," he said, voice sounding hollow. The deep, ebony gaze met his own and he found a promise there, like a reassurance that the man wouldn't let this be the last time they met.

"Then I'll see you next Sunday," he said softly. Eames wanted to run up to the man, catch him up, refuse to let him go but that would be rather ridiculous, wouldn't it, and he didn't know how to just ask for Arthur to stay, to not leave, to not show him his back as he walked out that door that was looming like some ominous black hole reaching out to take from him this perfection that had swept into his life, knocking him flat. Eames' vocal chords wouldn't work as Arthur offered him a half hearted wave before turning to the door, reaching for the handle, letting in the blaring music into the tiny room, sound blasting through the small space. Eames almost didn't say anything yet somewhere in the jumble that had become his chest he found his voice because he couldn't wait an entire week. A full seven days would feel like half of forever in hell if he couldn't see Arthur again, touch him, see that dark gaze watching him as it had just been, like Arthur wanted nothing more than to find an excuse to stay.

"Wait!" Eames had to shout it over the music and Arthur stepped back into the bathroom, eye brows raised, eyes waiting, hoping. Eames swallowed and took a deep breath, "Tomorrow I work at my cousin's shop until four, on thirty-fourth and seventh in a shop called Cobol…" and there he stopped because the man was smiling that blinding smile that warmed him to the core, making him feel like he was the only person in the entire world.

"Then maybe I'll see you," Arthur said in that beautiful, silky voice and the doubts that had been gnawing at Eames' insides smoothed out until all he could feel was that dark fire curling up in the middle of his heart, which beat in time to a thick, raging bass that called out that one name…_Arthur…Arthur…_

XX

Arthur went through his entire day like he was a ghost, feeling as though he had left a piece of himself behind in that grimy bathroom where the beat surged through even behind the closed door. As that day was a Monday and thus a work day, he had to force himself to focus on his job, pretending not to know his co-workers were wondering what had happened to him the night before so that he wouldn't run mad waiting for four o'clock. He told himself he wasn't sure he would see if he could find Eames, but then he had just been trying to fool himself. The whole day he could think of nothing else. Even while he was laying out the plan for their next extraction, trying to convince everyone (including himself) that he retained some semblance of control, he was distracted.

So when two-thirty rolled around, he slipped from the warehouse before even Ariadne arrived after her last class of the day and strode through the city, destination written on the back of his eyelids. The day was cool, overcast, and he was turning onto the block, heart leaping up to settle on the back of his tongue.

There!

It was a little designer's boutique, which shocked him as he didn't see Eames as a fashion type, its displays reserved but eye catching none the less, the windows encased in dark wood, giving it an expensive feel even though this wasn't a rich part of town. And, they sold _his_ brand of Armani suits. Arthur liked it instantly. Feeling a little bit like a stalker but not caring enough to go find something else to do, he settled onto a bench across the street from the store and waited for the clock to strike four. As he sat, he loosened his tie and slipped out of the warm blazer, no longer feeling the cool air as he was now overcome with nerves.

He still didn't know what he had been thinking, letting himself be enthralled by this man, allowing the fire to take over, seep into him. Yet he still sat watching that window, hoping for a glimpse of him. The angle was bad and Arthur could really only see the ghostly reflection of the street in the glass but it didn't stop his eyes from trying to strain for something, just a hint, a flash, anything. And every five minutes he looked at his clock, hoping that this time would be when the little silver hand would be touching upon the four.

Yet when it finally came time to step into the large glass door, he was overcome with giant butterflies with wings made of golden acid, making him feel sick. Eames had told him where to come and what time but that was last night. And he barely knew the man. Associating with people he didn't know, in Arthur's line of work, was a dangerous thing. It was fine under the darkened lights of a dance club or even against a grungy wall but now it was about to become real. Shit, he wanted it to become real. But how could Eames feel about being with a man form whom crime was a way of life. Arthur had killed people, a lot of people, for Christ's sake. How would Eames see him without the beat surging up through their shoes and the dim lights flashing around them in a sea of surging humanity?

Maybe he should have brought flowers.

Then he thought of those eyes and the way it felt just to touch all that golden skin and Arthur was squaring his shoulders and stepping into the store, taking a minute to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting as a bell dinged over his head. A young man with a flop of dark hair pulled back into a small tail at the back of his neck and his dark eyes blacker than Arthur's own greeted him as he entered, smile bland and uninterested.

"Yes, I'm looking for Eames," but then, Arthur didn't really need to ask because his eyes had been drawn to the strong frame and the hard lines of tanned arms as Eames organized a table of shirts, his back to the door and Arthur. Eames didn't notice the dark eyes still watching him light up with curiosity because he was stepping into the store, shoes making little clicking noises as his heels struck the polished wooden floors.

It was then, as he stopped behind the broad back clad in a dark shirt much like the one Arthur had worn the night before and watched the muscles slide behind the material that he realized he needn't have worried. He remembered the look he saw in those eyes as he had been about to leave the starkly lit bathroom of a dark night club called _Limbo_ and they had been pleading with him not to leave, to not let the real world come back into that little haven they had made amid the dull tiles and insistent beat. If Arthur had his way, he would never turn his back on Eames again.

"Excuse me," Arthur started, watching the back stiffen in surprise, "I was wondering if you could help me," and the smile he was greeted with was the kind that opened the last lock and set him free.

XX

The day had been one of the shittiest Eames'd had in a long time. The customers were ruder than usual, one even chewing him out because they didn't have the right size of a particular pair of pants anywhere in the store and why couldn't Eames do anything about it? To which Eames had responded with a less than respectful "If you didn't visit McDonalds every other day, you might not be having such difficulties…sir," And that had gotten him chewed out by Winry, his cousin and his boss, who went by the old standby that the customer is always right. Even if they weren't. Which in turn had resulted in a rather ugly screaming match that had Ling, the store's other employee, practically peeling them apart as they were scaring people from the store. It was a love-hate relationship and sometimes he wondered if there was any love in it at all. Plus, Eames was having a hard time looking at his dark haired co-worker and friend as it seemed he and Neal had decided to make whatever it was they had official. Which they hereby proclaimed by sucking face every ten minutes.

Really, Eames didn't really mind what Neal did but he was his little brother and he knew how Ling was. Not that he really had much room to talk as he had hooked up with a complete stranger the night before. Speaking of which, it seemed that everywhere he turned, he kept catching glimpses of moon-pale skin and dark hair. It was maddening because he was sure that even though he had told the man last night where he worked, he highly doubted Arthur would show up. What could a guy like that want with him? Clearly Arthur was educated, had a good career. Eames had nothing but a dark alley career built on lies and coercion and being just what he wasn't. And because that was now illegal and Eames' was biding his time (meaning he couldn't find work and was having trouble leaving the country) he was left with a dead end job with the only employer in the city that would hire him and that was because he was family of a friend and she felt bad for him.

And Eames _hated_ that he wanted to see Arthur again. Wanted it in such a way that by the end of his shift, he was sure he was going mad as every time he looked out the window in the front of the store and thought he saw a familiar man lounging on the bench across the street. By the time four o'clock rolled around, his feet hurt, his jaw ached from clenching his teeth and his was in such a foul mood, even Winry was giving him a wide berth.

Eames was taking his frustrations out on a table of shirts, employee's id and dressing room keys swinging on the lanyard around his neck rather violently when the bell clanged in the front of the store. He growled to himself. The store closed at five on Mondays and usually they had their last customers stroll through at around three thirty. Really, all he wanted to do was go home and crash so he could obsess over the memory of black fire and fiery eyes. Ling greeted the newcomer in a soft, bored voice, which meant the guy was just as ready to leave as Eames was, as Ling loved people and struck up a conversation whenever he could. Still seething at everything in general, he was still tearing through the pile of shirts when someone stopped behind him and addressed him in a voice so familiar, he almost fell over.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me," Eames stiffened in shock, the velvety voice shooting straight through him and plunging deep, striking against his heart, where it was suddenly trying to escape through the roof of his mouth. Unable to kill the smile plastering itself all over his features, he turned to find Arthur standing behind him, dark eyes glittering with a soft smile hiding in his bottomless eyes. He was in a nice dress shirt and pants, a dark tie hanging loose around his neck and a jacket folded over one arm. He was neat, put together and drop dead gorgeous and Eames hoped the look in the beautiful eyes made of night was just for him. He had to scramble to find his words again.

"Yes, what can I do for you, sir?" he kept his voice bland, as if he was talking to just another customer and the dark eyes laughed down at him, a pleased smirk curling at the corners of the mouth he knew tasted of delicious fire. Eames was amused he was playing along and he had a feeling his eyes were mirroring Arthur's laughter caught in his chest.

"I was wondering if you could help me find someone. I met him last night and haven't been able to stop thinking about him," Eames flushed at this, smile widening to a grin but he wasn't about to be outdone.

"Oh, really. What does he look like?" and he was sure Arthur would give in but the dark eyes still glittered in restrained mirth.

"Well, he has the biggest damn lips I've ever seen; like a girl's," to which Eames growled, knowing the man was just teasing him, "And a very nice ass. Actually, he looks a lot like you," again Eames' heart jumped, a pleasant warmth spreading through him that banished the pain of his aching feet and the headache that was throbbing at the edges of his consciousness, waiting to explode into a full blown migraine.

"I see. Well, let me know if you find him," and sucked in a breath when a large, pale hand caught his chin and forced him to look into dark, dark eyes that threatened to sear him straight to his soul.

"I already found him. He's standing right in front of me," and Eames was even able to ignore the raging heat that collected over his cheekbones and nose because he was free, blessedly so, soaring so high, the only thing that could ground him was the weight of the black fire burning deep inside of him. Then Arthur let him go, took a step back, dark eyes sweeping around the store briefly as if he was trying to escape what he found in the blonde's gaze, "Don't you get off at four?" he was asking and Eames blinked at his brain scrambled to catch up.

"Oh, yeah," then turned towards the office in the back of the store and bellowed, "WINRY! I'M LEAVING!" yanking the lanyard over his neck and watching the dark eyebrows raise in shocked amusement. He just shrugged and was nearly brained by a stapler that came flying from the office. Eames whirled, holding his head.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR, YOU BITCH?" he screamed at the blond woman in the office doorway, who was regarding him with her hands on her hips and an unimpressed expression on her face.

"I'm deducting your pay again if you're late tomorrow," she informed him before grinning wolfishly and adding, softly, "criminal," to which his temper ignited and he was sending his i.d. sailing at her head as he raged.

"AS IF YOU HAVE ANY RIGHT! IT'S BETTER WORK THAN WHATEVER THE HELL YOU CAN MANAGE TO DO! YOU JUST WISH YOU WERE AS FUCKING TALENTED AS ME!" Eames yelled, even though it wasn't even close to true. She just laughed. They did this almost every day.

It was the deep laugh behind Eames that had him once again whirling and pinning his volatile glare Arthur, who was watching the whole thing with interest. "What?" Eames snipped and a pale hand tugged his, effectively becoming the extinguisher for the fire of his temper.

"Nothing. Come on, I'll take you out for dinner," Arthur's eye sparkled with amusement and Eames flushed again, feeling foolish as he followed the taller man to the door.

"What, like a date?" he asked as he waved to Ling who was watching, fascinated, from the corner at the front of the store, a small smile on his lips. Arthur laughed at the question, the sound clear in the crisp air as they stepped from the store. The eyes regarded him with an expression he wanted to see every day for the rest of his life and he accepted Arthur's hand when it was offered, wrapping his own long fingers through the paler, slimmer ones. Arthur smiled at him, the expression beautiful and Eames wondered once again what he had done to deserve this, to make this man, who was perfect in every single way, want him, Eames, who was..well, fucked up was a pretty good descriptor. Whatever it was, he was glad.

"Yeah, like a date. I know it's a little backwards but I would rather we weren't strangers anymore," Arthur answered and Eames turned his head away to hide his pleased smile, fingers tightening on Arthur's hand.

"We aren't strangers," Eames answered quietly because it was true. They walked in silence for a moment, just lost in each other's touch, the simple connection of palms and finger tips then Arthur spoke up again, "So, I noticed you're sensitive about your…vocation? Criminal, hmm? Care to explain?," to which Arthur was rewarded with an arm in his stomach. Eames was grinning, though, because he was stupidly, insanely happy. He hoped, with time, this moment would become just one of endless moments, stills in time, time in which he would always know Arthur's dark gaze and gentle touch and beautiful, breathtaking smile.

**This is actually the first edited copy of my Big Bang fic over at _inception_bang_ on lj. It's not exactly finished yet, I have a scene or two to add, but I felt this was a more natural stopping place then the more prolonged version I'm still writing. I like this much, much better. Also, this is one hundred percent un-beta'd, so feel free to rip me to shreds about this. Constructive criticism is _always_ a bonus.**

**So, you guys know the drill. Review, make me smile, all of that :D **

**And have an awesome week you guys!**


End file.
